The Bridge (7 page)

When hands were stretched out to help her too, Madam Olga realized what had seemed strange. The figures in tuxedoes were girls. Their red hair was tucked up under the top hats. They smiled broadly, but this did not reassure the passenger. She would have preferred to order the driver to keep following the first carriage, but she suspected that he would not have obeyed.

She accepted the hands reluctantly. Before she descended, however, one of the girls took her leaflet and looked at the back of it, then nodded to the other girl. As soon as Madam Olga touched ground, the door in front of her started to open. She thought she would go in by herself like Madam Vera, but the girl with the leaflet went in before her.

Just beyond the entrance, steep steps of bare stone led downwards. Torches in iron sconces were placed at regular intervals on both sides. Since there was no railing, Madam Olga held onto the cold, wet wall.

There must have been at least thirty steps. Before reaching the bottom, Madam Olga heard a round of applause from down below. They finally reached a high, round room, lit by a ring of torches at head-height.

To the left of the entrance at the bottom of the stairs was a semicircular viewing stand with six rows of seats placed in steps one above the other, similar to an amphitheater. There was an aisle that cut through the middle, dividing the seats, with three on either side. All the places seemed to be taken. Madam Olga had never seen so many clowns together in one place.

Across from the entrance, a figure dressed in a long purple robe was sitting on a high-backed, throne-like chair. Its face could not be seen because its head was bowed and covered by a purple hood with no eye slits. Gloves of the same purple hid the hands placed on its knees. In front of the figure stood a square glass vessel like a fish tank, half-f of multicolored balls.

Madam Vera was standing on a mound in the middle of the room, her back to the audience. If it weren’t for her black blindfold, she would be looking at a large wooden wheel with leather straps by the wall to the right of the entrance. The box she’d bought in the old-fashioned weapons store lay on a little table next to her. Its glass top was raised so Madam Olga could finally see the four long daggers.

The girl in the tuxedo who had brought her down the stairs motioned towards the stand. That’s when Madam Olga noticed that it wasn’t completely full. The middle place in the second row on the left was empty. She wasn’t expected to join the clowns, was she? But there could be no doubt; the seat had a large number eight, the same that was written on the back of her leaflet.

She squeezed in between two clowns. The one on her left gave her a smile stretched literally ear to ear by makeup. The one on her right honked as he blew on a red paper snake that unwound towards her, forcing her to back away. But there was no more time for joking around because the show had just started.

The figure in purple raised its right hand. The crypt fell silent the same moment. The hand plunged among the balls in the aquarium, hunted around a bit, pulled one out, then raised it in the air. It had a sparkling number thirty-six.

The clowns burst into applause and one on the end of the top right-hand row jumped up and ran down the aisle. He handed his leaflet to the girl who gestured towards the wheel.

With her help he climbed up onto two small footrests, leaning his back against the wood, and spread out his arms. When he had taken position, arms and legs spread, the girl tied the wide straps firmly around his ankles and wrists.

Then she went up to Madam Vera and touched her on the shoulder. Madam Vera thrust her hand into her coat pocket. First came the sound of rustling paper, and then she pulled out the copper bracelet. The girl took it to the throne and laid it in the purple lap.

Then she went behind the wheel and it started to turn. It started off slowly, but picked up speed after the first cycle. Not long after, the clown’s costume produced a series of dizzying concentric circles on the wood approximating a multicolored target.

When she realized what was about to happen, Madam Olga put her hands over her mouth to suppress a cry. Was Madam Vera really going to do that? she wondered in disbelief. She had always complained of being clumsy, always dropping, breaking or spilling something. And now this, with her eyes blindfolded to boot. Pure insanity. When they die people seem to forget what they used to be like…

Bending over slightly, Madam Vera felt for the box on the table, then took out one of the four daggers. She tested its weight in her hand and took hold of the tip of the blade. When she let it fly, the room fell silent once again.

The dagger flashed and plunged in, but where was not immediately clear. Following the clowns’ lead, Madam Olga leaned forward a little as the turning wheel quickly slowed down. When it stopped, the entire audience jumped to their feet with a new round of applause. She was the only one who stayed in her seat, staring speechlessly at the forehead of the crucified clown, where only the handle of the dagger was visible.

The girl came out from behind the wheel and started to remove the straps. But the clown didn’t crumple to the ground after she finished untying him. Just as though there were no dagger thrust into his forehead, he made a great arching leap off the footrests. First he bowed to the figure in purple, then to the other clowns who gave him another round of applause. Then, like a two-legged unicorn, he bounded back to his seat.

The silence that held sway was disturbed by new rustling. The girl went up to Madam Vera again and held out her hand. Now she was holding the amber-colored necklace. When it had joined the bracelet in the lap, the purple glove plunged into the aquarium once again. The new ball had a sparkling number thirteen.

Accompanied by applause, a clown from the end of the third row, behind Madam Olga, rushed towards the wheel. She watched in irritation as the girl tightened the straps. She was meant to assume, of course, that this was all just a circus number. What else could it be with so many clowns? While they were all having a great time, she was the only one to be genuinely perturbed.

She wouldn’t let them deceive her anymore. She watched impassively as the wheel turned faster and faster, and then the second dagger hit home somewhere. She just waved her hand dismissively when she saw the handle poking out just above the heart. She did not join in the applause that ensued after the second clown jumped off the wheel and bowed to the audience.

After Madam Vera took the plastic earrings out of the bag in her pocket, a third number was drawn: eleven. The clown in the middle seat on the opposite side from Madam Olga ran joyfully towards the wheel. This is losing its originality, she thought. Thank heavens Madam Vera had no more costume jewelry to pay for the throws. One of the daggers would not be used.

This time the blade allegedly hit the middle of his stomach. Receiving a thunderous ovation, the clown returned to his seat, pointing to his dagger as he went like it was some sort of decoration. After the applause died down, nothing happened for several moments. All eyes were turned towards Madam Vera on the mound. Even the figure in purple lifted its covered head.

When Madam Vera started to raise her hands, Madam Olga thought for a moment that she intended to remove the blindfold. Instead of this, however, the blindfold was doubled. The narrow black band was completely covered by the wide yellow scarf. The clowns jumped off their seats and started to cheer. Even the girl in the top hat applauded.

The purple glove stayed in the aquarium longer than before, briskly stirring the balls. They spun all the way up to the brim of the glass vessel, threatening to spill over. But this didn’t happen. When the hand finally came out it was holding a dark-red ball with a sparkling number eight.

At first Madam Olga didn’t understand why all eyes had turned towards her. When it finally dawned on her that this was her seat number, she started to shake her head. The applause surrounding her was not the least bit encouraging. She raised her hands in front of her as an additional sign of refusal. There might not be any danger from the dagger, but she certainly wasn’t going to let them spin her wildly on the wheel. There was no way she could endure that.

When it became clear that she did not intend to stand up, the two clowns on either side of her rose from their seats. They grabbed her under the arms without a word and carried her to the stage. Madam Olga tried to wrest herself free, but they held on firmly. She stopped flailing about when they left the stand, not wanting to give any more occasion for hilarious laughter.

The clowns didn’t let go of her while the girl was tying the straps. When she was finally stretched out on the wheel, they returned to their seats. Still smiling, the girl grabbed the brooch from her, even though it was clasped tightly in her fist. She raised it into the air, causing an outburst of delight among the audience. The brooch joined the other pieces of jewelry in the purple lap, and the hood without eye slits slowly bowed.

Madam Olga closed her eyes as the wheel started to turn. She was unable to keep them open; this would make her feel lightheaded and she might even faint. Even without being able to see, the onrush of nausea told her precisely when her head was upside down. But at least the girl had pinned the hem of her skirt and coat to the wood. She didn’t dare think what would happen otherwise while her legs were up in the air.

She just wanted to get it over with. The clowns cheered faster and faster, louder and louder. When the dagger finally flew, she didn’t hear the whiz, just a dull thud somewhere around her head. The crypt fell silent. She kept her eyes tightly shut a few more moments, then opened them hesitantly.

The first thing she saw was the handle of the dagger above her like a ledge, still vibrating. She thought that it was sticking out of her forehead, like with the first clown, but when she bent her head back as far as the straps allowed, she discovered that the dagger had landed just above the top of her head. The part that had not entered the wood looked ominously sharp.

Then she turned towards the audience. The clowns were sitting with their heads bowed. In spite of their painted smiles, they seemed dejected, as though someone had just died. The girl came out from behind the wheel, her red hair in disarray. She was trying to bite a piece off the top hat’s brim.

Madam Vera raised her hands and untied the scarf, then the black blindfold. Her eyes rested briefly on Madam Olga. Then she came down from the mound and went up to the figure in purple. She dropped the scarf and the blindfold into his lap, covering the four pieces of costume jewelry.

The sigh that coursed through the audience merged with a wheezing sound, like a death rattle, that came from under the hood. The purple glove rose tremulously towards the hood, waited briefly after taking hold of the pointed top, then pulled upwards.

When it was plain there was nothing underneath, the clowns broke into painful sobs, and the girl clutched the bitten top hat to her breast and screamed. The headless, empty robe remained upright for a long moment, as though defying the inevitable, then crumpled onto the high-backed chair like a discarded rag.

Madam Vera went up to the wheel and started to untie the straps that bound Madam Olga. She stretched out both hands to help her down. Without her support Madam Olga would certainly have stumbled or even fallen. Her head was still spinning from the turning wheel.

They stood there for a while, looking at each other silently. Finally, Madam Vera let go of her and headed for the exit. Madam Olga started after her without a moment’s hesitation. As they climbed up between the torches a chant resembling a rhythmical dirge accompanied them from down below.

The girl who had stayed outside the crypt also held her top hat on her breast, with bite marks on its brim. When the two women appeared at the door, she turned away her tear-stained face, framed by luxuriant red hair. Madam Vera let Madam Olga climb into the carriage that was still there, then got in herself.

They didn’t speak a word to each other during the short ride. The clattering of the carriage wheels subsided when they left the cemetery and hit an asphalt road. Lying back in her seat, Madam Olga gazed at the row of chestnut trees dotted with an archipelago of bright islands.

When they turned off the boulevard she wasn’t sure where they were. She thought it was a side street, but when the carriage stopped and she got out after Madam Vera, she saw that they were in the middle of a bridge. As soon as she touched the pavement, the carriage moved on. It turned right on the other side and disappeared from view.

Madam Vera went up to the low, broad parapet between two ornate lampposts and stared into the river. Joining her, Madam Olga noted that a dark-green raincoat was lying on the parapet. She stood on the other side of it and looked down too.

The reflection of the lights rippled through the water, creating trembling, fleeting designs on the dark background. A boat festooned with countless colored lights, full of dance music, was coming upriver. They watched it slowly move under the bridge.

When the stern disappeared, Madam Vera held out her hand. Madam Olga needed a few moments to understand what was expected of her. Swiftly reaching into her pocket, she took out the scarf. Madam Vera held it before her briefly, as though inspecting it, then placed it on top of the raincoat.

With an agility not at all characteristic of the elderly, and particularly not of the dead, she climbed onto the parapet. Madam Olga looked left and right anxiously. Luckily, there was no one on the bridge to see this gymnastic feat.